Stay real, look sweet
by irishhair
Summary: A Sweet songfic. Pete/Stitch from Stitch's POV. Slash
1. Chapter 1

_Here they come, looking sugar oh so sweet, they talk so street_

_You can almost hear them saying underneath:_

_**Talk right, stay real, look sweet yeah!**_

Pete always had a girl on his arm. Some pretty girl with pillowy lips and soft curves, muttering sweet nothings into his ear. I didn't like it. It's hard enough being in love with your best mate without having to look at him with his tongue down some tart's throat every two seconds.

I, understandably, was less than happy about him seeing Poppy. Poppy wasn't even real and she was better than me? As though that wasn't enough, along came Daisy. I'd had enough. I wanted Pete back to myself and maybe if he got his heart broken, he wouldn't want another girl for a while. I told Daisy about Poppy. I just saw her skip into the pub, (our boozer, why did he have to bring her there?), and the words came out of my mouth. I thought, that had to be the end of it. Goodbye Daisy, goodbye Poppy, hello broken hearted Pete. Tell your sweet understanding mate Stitch all about it, while I ply you with drink and let you sob onto my shoulder.

Of course it all backfired and he got to have his cake and eat it, the jammy bastard. It was sickening watching the three of them monkey walking around, sneaking kisses in turn. Pete grinning like a cat that's got the cream.

_Baby baby, there's beauty in the way you grit your teeth_

_Think you're neat, but you're looking like a stiff to me_

_**Talk right, stay real, look sweet yeah**_

The first thing I thought when I saw him first was that he was such a fucking walking wet dream. We've been best mates since school, when he was this bundle of barely repressed enthusiasm and hair, who hugged you too much and too often.

He hasn't changed much, really. Neither have I. I've been squeezing ones out to a polaroid of Pete smiling into the camera, since I was sixteen. I should get a new photo of him, masturbating to teenaged Pete is making me feel like a pedophile.

_Am I the only one to no longer wish that every day was Saturday?_

_Am I the only one who goes round thinking:_

_It ain't me (stay real, look sweet) It ain't me_

_It ain't me (stay real, look sweet) It ain't me_

The three of them go out of a Saturday as soon as he gets off work. Not that they're not having filthy threesomes every day of the week, but, on Saturday they always go and do something nice as a couple. Or a triple, or whatever the fuck you call them.

Daisy and Poppy will turn up together, holding hands, to collect him and he'll turn and look at me and grin. His eyes saying something like, 'Am I the luckiest bastard in the world, or what?' I'll smile back weakly and they'll all bound off together. I usually sit in the corner after I've closed up and give myself Chinese burns, thinking about them smiling and feeding each other fork-fulls of their food.

_You and me shaking sugar under sheets we bought last week_

_You and me share a language that our souls can speak_

_**Talk right, stay real, look sweet yeah**_

Me and Pete are closer than most couples. I don't know why he's never realised how I feel about him. The gay thing wouldn't bother him, I can't count (that's a lie, each time is burned into my memory) the number of times I've caught him necking with a bloke. He'll just smile and wink at me and give the guy a pinch on the bum. It's torture.

"Who was that?"

"Some bloke. Bought me a drink."

"I buy you drinks all the time."

"Yeah, you're a mate."

"You queer now or something?"

"Naw, tits are wicked. I just fancied him a bit is all."

And it was that bloody simple to him. He didn't care about who the person he fancied was, he just got stuck in there and didn't let trivial things like gender freak him out. Why doesn't he get it by now? I don't know how I can be any more obvious. No one puts this much effort in if all they cared about was having someone to go to the pub with, or even just someone to shag. I want him.

_Am I the only one to no longer wish that every day was Saturday?_

_Am I the only one who goes round thinking:_

_It ain't me (stay real, look sweet) It ain't me_

_It ain't me (stay real, look sweet) It ain't me_

_(Ah, sweet)_

_Shuffling through the alley with your cufflinks all a-dangling_

_And your funny eyes attached to the sun_

It's not fair. I did not put in this much work for Pete to go off with a pair of tarts. He was always the One. I've never wavered on that. It was always Pete, since the moment I met him. He came bounding up to me and started chatting like we'd known each other for years.

"Do you wanna be my friend?" he'd asked, smiling like an idiot and dancing around with his hands in his pockets.

Because it was that straightforward with Pete. He told you exactly what he was thinking and subtlety didn't even enter into his mind in the slightest. It was flattering, being shown that much unguarded affection. It's beaten out of most people by the age of about two or three, but it never even occurred to him to hold back. I loved him. With all my sixteen year old certainty, I loved him.

I'm not like him though. I can't just say, "do you wanna go out with me," straight off the bat. I need time to... well I've not thought that far ahead really. Get him pissed and jump him after he's been chucked has always been a tentative plan, but he's never been chucked. So the logical progression of that thought is, set it up so that he does. That one didn't work out all that well.

_Shuffling through the alley_

_Oh rocky dandy_

_People say you've got no handy_

_And your handkerchief is much too red_

_My poor, understand it_

_Oh you're so avant-garde_

_You're making me hard_

_Our stage_

_But you're looking like a stiff to me, yeah_

I can't stand looking at him sometimes. He's all angles and sharp edges and he drives me crazy. He looks like a goblin or something, but that doesn't stop me getting half hard when I get assaulted by his gigawatt smile, unawares. His individual features are, by themselves, not all that attractive. Too big nose, pointy chin, sticky out cheekbones, but together they knock me sideways. He could wear a bin bag and make it look good.

He's coming through the door, furious about something. He looks good when he's angry, I should try and piss him off more often.

"OI!"

...


	2. Chapter 2

I knocked at the door ceaselessly for five minutes straight before Pete opened the door, red eyed and sniffing.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his face with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry," I replied and thrust a bottle of Jack Daniels towards him.

He looked at the bottle and then at me. For a second he looked like he wanted to hit me again but then he sort of slumped in on himself, snatched the whiskey and stalked back into his flat. He left the door open and I took that as invitation to follow him.

I closed the door behind me and went to sit down next to him on the sofa. He had twisted open the bottle and was drinking straight from the neck. He spluttered slightly; Pete had no head for spirits. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned to glare at me.

"What were you playing at? Why do you always get so bloody jealous?" he spat at me, "Always! I get a nice girl and you're glaring at me from the corner!" he drank more whiskey furiously.

"I'm sorry," I repeated and let him berate me and get drunker and drunker.

After a while he was swaying gently and pointing at me. He was flushed and his face was screwed up with anger. I had never wanted him more. My cock was throbbing dully and my hands were in fists by my side. If I hadn't been careful, they would have been wiping away his tears and stroking his hair.

"You never even get girlfriends," he was slurring, "You only care about the ones I'm with."

"That's because I'm in love with you," I said quietly.

I hadn't meant to just tell him. Kiss him, grope him, bite him, but never just come out and say that I loved him. Somehow though, when push came to shove, I didn't want to just shag him anymore. I didn't want to take advantage of him. Because I did love him. Shit.

He looked at me in surprise. He hadn't expected me to reply to any of his angry questions, let alone with something like that.

"Poppy," he said dully, "You mean Poppy. You fancied her. Didn't you?" his eyes were desperate.

"No Pete," I replied, "I love you. Sorry."

The 'sorry' slipped out. It's was possibly the worst declaration of love ever. Pete looked at me in stunned silence and a tear sneaked past his eyelids and trickled down his cheek. I reached over and wiped it away with my thumb, cradling his face in my hand. I realised what I was doing and snatched my hand away, apologising softly.

"So, you wanted to get rid of Poppy and Daisy so you could have me," he said softly, looking downwards.

It wasn't a question, but a statement. I nodded shamefully. He looked me right in the eye.

"Why don't you then?" he asked, looking straight at me.

I blushed and tried to look away. He stubbornly held my eye. He closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly. I stared at him and started to breath heavily. His eyes snapped open and he glared at me.

"Kiss me, Stitch!" he said, "Your brilliant plan worked, Poppy and Daisy are gone, and I'm here _offering_ myself to you. The least you can give me is a kiss." He closed his eyes again and despite his devil may care attitude, started to tremble slightly.

I blinked slowly and leaned over to kiss him softly on the lips. As I began to draw back, his hands suddenly sprang to life and dragged my head back to his by my hair. He opened his mouth widely and ran his tongue along my bottom lip. I wrapped my arms around his skinny body and held him as tightly as I dared. He moaned into my mouth as I sucked his tongue. I pulled him into my lap, belatedly remembering the erection I was expertly hiding under my carefully arranged parka. Feeling it pushing into his thigh, Pete rubbed himself against my straining cock wantonly.

"You never said... never let me touch you... what was I supposed to do?" he whispered desperately, "Wait around for you forever?"

"I did," I said.

He fumbled with my trousers and put his hand down my pants. The look of intense concentration on his face nearly did me in then and there. There was a little crease between his eyebrows and his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth. In some weird form of retaliation, I put my hand on his crotch and rubbed it in time to his jerking my cock. He made a mewling noise in the back of his throat and pushed his groin into my hand.

Some rational part of me realised that if I didn't act quickly, it would all be over soon. There was no way of knowing if I would ever be in this position again, I may as well make the most of it. I started to get up and held him closer to me as I stood. He wrapped his legs around me eagerly.

"Got some KY jelly in my room," he said, between kisses, "Want you to fuck me."

I stumbled towards his bedroom, cupping his perfect arse in both hands. I threw him on the bed and started to undress him as fast as I could while he scrabbled with my shirt. Both of our shirts open, we rubbed our chests together. He started pinching my nipples and licking them, before leaning over the side of the bed and rummaging in his end table. He produced a set of metal clamps and jingled them in front of my nose.

"Can I put these on you?" he asked.

I nodded nervously. As if I could refuse him anything. He smiled widely and returned his wet mouth to my chest, nipping and sucking. Eventually, when they were pink and swollen from his attentions, Pete put the clamps over my sensitive nipples. I gasped at the pain, but still enjoyed the squeezing sensation. Pete smiled again and set to work getting rid of the rest of our clothes. He looked hungrily at my naked body and kissed me again. After some more riffling through the end table, he produced a half used tube of lube. I didn't like to think what the other half had been used for.

He threw the tube at me and I caught it one handed. He started to turn onto his stomach, but a grabbed a bony hip and pushed him back onto his back.

"I want to see your face when I'm fucking you," I whispered into his neck, while I pushed one lubed up finger into him.

He gasped and his eyes rolled back into his skull and he groaned loudly. I added another finger and circled them around inside him, stretching him.

"Now! Put it in now!" he commanded.

Obediently I removed my fingers and pulled his cheeks apart with both hands. I slid into him in one long thrust. He was still so tight, I felt a twinge of guilt and hoped that I hadn't hurt him. He locked his ankles together at the base of my spine and pulled me closer, raising his hips. I took the hint and started pushing in and out of him.

"Harder!" I grabbed his hips and fucked him deeper.

"Ah, wait, ow," I instantly stopped and looked at him with concern, "Banged my head," he grimaced, "Hang on, I've got an idea." He pulled off me with a soft wet squishing noise and went to his cupboard.

I turned around to watch him anxiously while he was bent over double, exposing his gaping hole, searching through his clothes, until he straightened up and pulled on his helmet.

He skipped back towards the bed and lay down underneath me.

"Well, come on then," he said impatiently.

I nodded mutely and pushed back inside him. Noticing his own erect cock, swaying like a metronome in time to our thrusting, I palmed it and jerked him off. I was, by this stage, thanking God that I'd asked to do it face to face. Missing Pete's sex-faces would have been tragic. Even at the best of times, when he wasn't in the throes of sexual ecstasy (I don't like to blow my own trumpet but if you'd been there, you'd get it. Toot, toot), his animated face would contort in the most fantastic ways. Right now it looked like he was trying to eat his own ear and play a kazoo at the same time.

His helmet was banging against his metal bed frame rhythmicly and little gasps were escaping me. I grabbed the Jack Daniels off the floor and took a long gulp. I swallowed half of it and let the other half drip into Pete's open mouth. He swallowed it and licked the residue off my lips.

"Yummy," he said softly and kissed me.

It wasn't like the other kisses, all tongues and teeth, it was softer, sweeter. Belatedly I realised that I was about to come. I groaned against his lips and came inside him. He looked down at where we were still joined and touched the base of my cock. I reluctantly pulled out of him and turned all my attentions to his throbbing erection. After half a minute he was thrashing desperately and coming, screaming my name, and making some kind of elephant impression. I've heard him do that one in the pub. If only I'd known, I would have had enough wank material to get me through a few more lonely nights. Not that I'd need it now. Hopefully.

"No more girlfriends, alright?" I said.

"Alright," he smiled.

Now we're lovers.


End file.
